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| "Five bucks a ride, bub." |
See what i did there?
Ahh, you'll get it.
So Bioshock Infinite came out this year, if some of you hadn't already heard, and it had parades going up and down the street about how fantastic it was.
I hadn't touched Bioshock for no reason, it just never caught my attention until I saw that it's third rendition had graced Kotakus blogroll.
Id seen things over the years, about Big Daddies and such, sprawled about like some serial litter bug had gone on a rubbish spree, and took note that it was a massive craze. I was always one to shy away from the coolest meme of the time, and frankly this was my time to catch up and shine.
I borrowed it from a friend and dove in to a cinematic experience of a first person shooter. Wading through sea and fire, the great opposers, surrounding me and guiding me to the divine intervention that is... The Elevator.
Traditionally, an elevator symbolises the direct route to Hell. That day was no different as i descended into Rapture, circa 1962.
It's been a long time since I've had to worry about my ammunition. For so many years it's been like every metaphorical bullet is like a child alone in the Milk Bar. He'll be surrounded by Lollys, and he'll eat lackadaisically because he knows more will be there for him to gobble up later.
The last time i had to ration out my lollies was Doom. I remember feeling confident one day, walking along and solving puzzles, taking care to use as little shotgun ammo as possible when taking down Imps and Zombie Troops, when i walked out to a menagerie of demons walking towards the alcove i was in. I turned around and more were there, marching and shooting, catching each other.
Looking back on it now, i probably should have left it at the infighting and culled the remainder. But i didn't. I went balls deep into those pussies and penetrated them hard, turkey slapping everything with what little I had until i was flaccid and shooting blanks.
It was all for nothing. Reload after reload, I ran out of ammo and was slaughtered again and again. Looking back on it now, I'm sure there is loads of infighting as they come out, and they could just cull themselves down to something manageable. But that was a fortnight ago.
Now I'm back to small clips and tough enemies, madly running around and collecting what I can to keep myself alive and armed, utilising alternative ammunition to burn, electrocute and generally blow away every splicer that came charging me, between making calculated attacks on Big Daddies so I can save the little girls they protect.
Yes that sounds much creepier than it actually is.
But between all that, it was a good listen. You pick up tape recordings all over, detailing the political motivation, the scientific process, and the individual stories of Rapture. On top of that, you have the few sane people helping you through the dank and ruined city, or warning you of impending doom, or generally enjoying themselves and their ulterior motives. It was fantasticly well detailed.
And eventually, I got to that point where everyone's mind was blown all those years ago, where the writing gave the fourth wall a massive prod. With the simple phrase of "Would you kindly".
1962 is a time where gentlemen should be gentlemen (At least, I assume). They have please and thank you drilled into them from a young age, so hearing someone ask me to perform simple tasks with complete courtesy isn't notable.
But when they point it out that it was actually a method of deeply programmed Hypnotism, that whenever you're asked to do something with those words, you're compelled to do it without a second thought, you think back to the rest of the game and just have your Mind Blown.
How often do you go on and do what the game asks you without questioning it? "Pull that lever"; "zap that switch"; "turn that faucet". That disembodied voice calling in from a communication device with simple requests and you trundle on, keeping note of what it is that you needed to do and waiting for your next command, regardless of the seeming inanity of it.
Since then, I've been looking at the games I've played from that second perspective, stepping back and reviewing everything I'm doing, questioning the cause of what I'm doing.
And because of that, I tip my hat off to the writers. It's a bloody clever game they've played.
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